In "Fanaa" we are confronted with an unlikely hero, Rehan Qadri (Aamir Khan), a Kashmiri separatist disguised as a Delhi tour guide, who has an overextended affinity for women, shayari, and (apparently) hair gel. Later, he is revealed as an assassin disguised as a soldier in the Indian Army. So, one wonders, who exactly is Rehan? As it turns out, it doesn't matter.
In theory, "Fanaa" should be Aamir's film, but in truth it belongs to Kajol. Aamir is hindered with a woefully underdeveloped character who, despite ample screen time, never provides us with any reason for his actions (was he simply born into terrorism?) nor do we buy into his romantic pursuit of Zooni (Kajol)- is she just another notch on his belt? Why marry someone you can never be with? Having consummated their union, Rehan flees the scene by faking his death. Worse yet, he abandons the blind Zooni in the midst of an operation to restore her sight. Sound melodramatic? It is.
The first hour is excruciatingly clichéd, Rehan falling for Zooni at first sight and romancing her in spite of the pathetic protests of her even more pathetically annoying cadre of anorexic bimbette friends named Ruby, Fatty and . . . oh, who cares. What's worse is that Rehan falls hopelessly and inexplicably in love with Zooni, barrages the poor blind girl with an unending series of mediocre shayari, all the while Kunal Kohli and his team of editors killing their blossoming chemistry by constantly invoking the same accursed electric guitar in the background matched only in obnoxious measure with Kailash Kher's undying cries of "Subhanallah!" After the fourth or fifth repetition of this same device in the span of six minutes one is ready to cry, "ENOUGH!" The musical interludes do nothing to move the story along and merely grate the nerves and tax one's patience. All the songs, with the possible exception of 'Mere Haath Mein', should have been deleted from the already lumbering and sloppy narrative.
The second half, though infinitely more interesting and riddled with decidedly less cliché, does not pass muster. Its appeal rests squarely on Kajol's shoulders, whose dignified portrayal of Zooni saves the film from falling into complete chaos. Kajol, in my books, is an actress who knows her limits: having neither the sublime dramatic gifts of Sridevi or Shabana Azmi or the glamorous ethereality of Aishwariya Rai or Rekha, she has built her reputation as an actress on playing various versions of the 'adorable gummy sprite', the kind of role Juhi Chawla used to specialize in with (you guessed it) Aamir Khan. Whether it was Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge, Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, Kabhie Khushi Kabhi Gham, or even Kuch Khatti Kuch Meethi, she has found recognition as an actress in a certain aesthetic groove which mixes light comedy, the Indian utopia, and feminine typology within the standard song-n-dance formula. But she (along with the gracious Tabu) saves "Fanaa", transcending the bombastic melodrama which surrounds her. In Zooni we see the human side of the story, the protective mother and daughter who refuses to be destroyed in the name of love or in the name of an ideology which considers human life political collateral.
The main problem with "Fanaa", aside from its feeble screenplay, is its inability to give us a glimpse inside Rehan: there is virtually nothing said about his motivations, the rationale behind his Machiavellian philosophy, or even the tiniest impression of his humanity. In "Dil Se" Meghna (Manisha Koirala) is depicted as an essentially solitary being, carrying the burden of pain and purpose with the intention of existential surrender. Kunal Kohli bestows no such depth or history to Rehan, prioritizing romanticism over the existentialist theme which must necessarily be given voice in such a narrative. The sexual politics of the situation are many and interesting, but Kohli curiously refuses to address them, choosing instead to sell Rehan as a wayward hero. Are we buying? Nope, and it seems neither is Aamir Khan.
The limpness of Khan's portrayal is not the fault of his limitations as an actor; rather it is Kohli's, who edits the film with a labored eye and (akin to Bhansalli's treatment of Shah Rukh Khan in "Devdas") drowns his hero in an overly declamatory background score, subjugating Rehan's humanity to the obtusely communicated emotion of the film; time after time he is drowned out by a wretched tendency to rely on 'the wailing voice' to let us know when we are to feel anguish and sorrow. Emotions cannot be manufactured or coerced; the ultimate emotional banality of "Fanaa" speaks to this very basic rule of art.
Zooni's portrayal also suffers from the requisite Bollywood suspension of belief: we are asked to believe that a blind woman can dance unassisted, romance an aggressive stranger, and appear with perfectly applied makeup and her hair flawlessly groomed every morning. Suspending one's belief is fine (and certainly not something unique to Indian films) but when it comes to a subject as sensitive as blindness or terrorism, one rightly expects the subject to be handled and presented realistically and with dignity. Unlike "Dil Se", which could afford to revel in a surreal realism because it was a love story and not a separatist polemic, "Fanaa" fails to position itself successfully as either fantasy or reality, or any kind of amalgam one can take seriously.
And so the final word on "Fanaa" will be this: it marks a step backward for Aamir Khan, who after a string of innovatory vehicles (Lagaan, Dil Chahta Hai, The Rising, Rang De Basanti) has found himself trapped in a formula fiction which neither dictates its premise with the respect it deserves nor does it offer him the creative scope to conjure a fully dimensional Rehan. Rehan is destroyed, but not by love. Zooni destroys him to preserve her life and the life of her child. And Kunal Kohli destroys him long before.
In theory, "Fanaa" should be Aamir's film, but in truth it belongs to Kajol. Aamir is hindered with a woefully underdeveloped character who, despite ample screen time, never provides us with any reason for his actions (was he simply born into terrorism?) nor do we buy into his romantic pursuit of Zooni (Kajol)- is she just another notch on his belt? Why marry someone you can never be with? Having consummated their union, Rehan flees the scene by faking his death. Worse yet, he abandons the blind Zooni in the midst of an operation to restore her sight. Sound melodramatic? It is.
The first hour is excruciatingly clichéd, Rehan falling for Zooni at first sight and romancing her in spite of the pathetic protests of her even more pathetically annoying cadre of anorexic bimbette friends named Ruby, Fatty and . . . oh, who cares. What's worse is that Rehan falls hopelessly and inexplicably in love with Zooni, barrages the poor blind girl with an unending series of mediocre shayari, all the while Kunal Kohli and his team of editors killing their blossoming chemistry by constantly invoking the same accursed electric guitar in the background matched only in obnoxious measure with Kailash Kher's undying cries of "Subhanallah!" After the fourth or fifth repetition of this same device in the span of six minutes one is ready to cry, "ENOUGH!" The musical interludes do nothing to move the story along and merely grate the nerves and tax one's patience. All the songs, with the possible exception of 'Mere Haath Mein', should have been deleted from the already lumbering and sloppy narrative.
The second half, though infinitely more interesting and riddled with decidedly less cliché, does not pass muster. Its appeal rests squarely on Kajol's shoulders, whose dignified portrayal of Zooni saves the film from falling into complete chaos. Kajol, in my books, is an actress who knows her limits: having neither the sublime dramatic gifts of Sridevi or Shabana Azmi or the glamorous ethereality of Aishwariya Rai or Rekha, she has built her reputation as an actress on playing various versions of the 'adorable gummy sprite', the kind of role Juhi Chawla used to specialize in with (you guessed it) Aamir Khan. Whether it was Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge, Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, Kabhie Khushi Kabhi Gham, or even Kuch Khatti Kuch Meethi, she has found recognition as an actress in a certain aesthetic groove which mixes light comedy, the Indian utopia, and feminine typology within the standard song-n-dance formula. But she (along with the gracious Tabu) saves "Fanaa", transcending the bombastic melodrama which surrounds her. In Zooni we see the human side of the story, the protective mother and daughter who refuses to be destroyed in the name of love or in the name of an ideology which considers human life political collateral.
The main problem with "Fanaa", aside from its feeble screenplay, is its inability to give us a glimpse inside Rehan: there is virtually nothing said about his motivations, the rationale behind his Machiavellian philosophy, or even the tiniest impression of his humanity. In "Dil Se" Meghna (Manisha Koirala) is depicted as an essentially solitary being, carrying the burden of pain and purpose with the intention of existential surrender. Kunal Kohli bestows no such depth or history to Rehan, prioritizing romanticism over the existentialist theme which must necessarily be given voice in such a narrative. The sexual politics of the situation are many and interesting, but Kohli curiously refuses to address them, choosing instead to sell Rehan as a wayward hero. Are we buying? Nope, and it seems neither is Aamir Khan.
The limpness of Khan's portrayal is not the fault of his limitations as an actor; rather it is Kohli's, who edits the film with a labored eye and (akin to Bhansalli's treatment of Shah Rukh Khan in "Devdas") drowns his hero in an overly declamatory background score, subjugating Rehan's humanity to the obtusely communicated emotion of the film; time after time he is drowned out by a wretched tendency to rely on 'the wailing voice' to let us know when we are to feel anguish and sorrow. Emotions cannot be manufactured or coerced; the ultimate emotional banality of "Fanaa" speaks to this very basic rule of art.
Zooni's portrayal also suffers from the requisite Bollywood suspension of belief: we are asked to believe that a blind woman can dance unassisted, romance an aggressive stranger, and appear with perfectly applied makeup and her hair flawlessly groomed every morning. Suspending one's belief is fine (and certainly not something unique to Indian films) but when it comes to a subject as sensitive as blindness or terrorism, one rightly expects the subject to be handled and presented realistically and with dignity. Unlike "Dil Se", which could afford to revel in a surreal realism because it was a love story and not a separatist polemic, "Fanaa" fails to position itself successfully as either fantasy or reality, or any kind of amalgam one can take seriously.
And so the final word on "Fanaa" will be this: it marks a step backward for Aamir Khan, who after a string of innovatory vehicles (Lagaan, Dil Chahta Hai, The Rising, Rang De Basanti) has found himself trapped in a formula fiction which neither dictates its premise with the respect it deserves nor does it offer him the creative scope to conjure a fully dimensional Rehan. Rehan is destroyed, but not by love. Zooni destroys him to preserve her life and the life of her child. And Kunal Kohli destroys him long before.